


Redneck Crazy

by TotallyNotRei



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Cheating, Domestic Avengers, Drunk Clint, F/M, Fist Fights, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Pre-Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Songfic, Violence, country tyler farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyNotRei/pseuds/TotallyNotRei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint finds out that Bobbi has been cheating on him for quite some time, so, naturally, he gets pissed of. Based off of Tyler Farr's Redneck Crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redneck Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first finished Avengers fic. I have started many, but this is the lucky one that gets to be uploaded to AO3  
> Unbeta-ed, unless you count spwellcheck.  
> No copyright intended.

Clint Barton felt the steering wheel beneath his hands hum as he made the final turn into the neighborhood. Lips tight, beer in hand, he flicked on the brights as he pulled to a screeching halt on her front lawn; effectively kicking up dirt and ruining that stupid rose bush Bobbi always loved so much. He looked to his radio, noting with pleasure, that it was three in the morning. Taking the last swig of his drink, he cranked up the music to an annoying volume and stumbled as best he could out of his truck, puling with him the rest of his six-pack.

 

Slamming the door, he climbed onto the hood of his faded red vehicle, sitting upright and waiting. He knew they had heard him. The blinds fluttered for a brief moment, indicating someone on the inside had become curious and peeked through to see what the racket was. Blue eyes widened behind the window as the pretty blonde realized just who was outside. She cursed and bit her lip.

  
“”S matter, Baby? I got all day!” The brunette shouted at the house opening his arms and laughing.

  
“Who the hell is that?” Her lover for the night asked as he snaked his muscular arms around her naked body. The two stared as, her now ex-boyfriend, opened another can of beer and chugged it down before crushing it and throwing the emptied can at her window, leaving a nice scratch.

  
“That’s, uh, that’s Clint.” Bobby growled as she tore herself from her man of the hour’s embrace and stalked upstairs to grab her robe. Oh, Clint Barton would hear from her. She flung the front door open and trudged across her beautiful green lawn to that stupid truck.

  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here? You can’t just drive up to my house and start drinking Clint. The fuck is wrong with you?” She had to shout to be heard above the music. Clint hopped down from the hood he was seated upon and leered down at her, the blue orbs and blonde locks he had once fell in love with looked stale and ugly.

  
“How long?” He asked in a low voice, she could smell the alcohol on his breath, “How long have you been runnin’ around behind my back, like a tramp? Am I not good enough? You have to run into some Pretty Boy’s arms? He looks like he’s got something to compensate for, have you seen that car?” He pointed with his beer hand, his best hand, at the shiny silver sports car parked right behind her work car. “Only old guys and small dick- douche bags have sports cars.”

  
She growled in frustration. “You’re ridiculous!” She shouted. Clint's eyes narrowed.

  
“Oh, am I? Am I the ridiculous one for putting all of my effort into a relationship I thought would last? Am I ridiculous for being faithful to the end? Am I?” He shouted leaning close to her face so she could see the storm building in his eyes. Even in his most furious state, he would never hit a woman. Not drunk, not high, not angry as all hell. Clinton Barton would never stoop low enough to hit a woman. Even when she pushed him back, shouting ugly insult as they both snarled at each other.

  
Then fucking Pretty Boy had to come out.

  
“Hey, back off man!” The black haired man shouted. He’d pulled on pants, leaving his semi-toned torso revealed. “You’re making a scene!” It was then, that Clint noticed neighbors standing in their lawn or peeking through their doors and windows. Nosey fucks. Then, Pretty Boy got close and pulled Bobby away, getting into Clint’s line of vision and trying to intimidate him with his one-inch advantage in height, leering at him with a hard look on his face.

  
“Why don’t you just go home and save yourself the embarrassment.” He said, pushing Clint in the chest so his back hit the front of his truck rather roughly. Ok. It was fucking on. The brunette man placed his beer on the car, and swung, connecting with Pretty Boy’s jaw. Bobby screamed as the guy dropped to the ground and tried to stop the blood that escaped his mouth. That would leave a hell of a bruise in the morning.

  
“Why don’t you just go home?” Clint chuckled, giving the other man a swift kick in the side. He groaned as he crawled up to his hand and knees, regaining his balance and standing. He whipped the blood from his face and leveled the brunette with a stare.  
“Clint, stop it!” Bobby screamed as she tugged his arm. Behind him, he heard the whistle of police sirens and spotted the blue and red lights coming up fast. Great.

  
“Whatever.” He finally sighed and turned to leave so he could wait by his truck, leaving now would look really bad, and possibly end in a car pursuit, when something caught him in the back of the head and made him drop like a bag of bricks, cradling his head in his hands. Above him, Pretty Boy stood with one of the loose brick from around the murdered rose bush the truck had gotten to, shouting at him to get the hell up.

  
Bringing his hand to the front of his face, he saw blood. Bastard gave him a concussion. He shot up and turned around to knock the other down, and proceeded to punch him repeatedly in the jaw, grinning when he felt a crack when he hit the guy’s nose. Pretty Boy’s responded by screaming, the sound gurgled by the blood in his mouth.  
“How do you like that, you sonova bitch, huh?” Clint hissed though his teeth then he pinned the man down and turned his gaze to Bobbi. “If you think that there was going to be any way this whole thing would turn out OK, you’re stupider than I thought.”  
“I didn't know.” She muttered, pathetically.  
“Didn't know what? That I get fucking pissed? What the hell did you think? That I was just going to say ‘yeah, you can fuck anyone you like, and I won’t do a god damn thing about it’? After how long we've been together, you ought to know me better.” Then two units pulled in the driveway, one parked on the street as three officers got out. Clint decided it’d be a good time to let stupid Pencil Dick up.

  
“Is there a problem, officer?” He asked smugly as Bobbi helped the kid up. How old was that prick anyway?  
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to go stand by the car while I talk to these two.” The officer said, pointing to one of the police units.

  
“Yeah, sure.” Clint shrugged and strutted over. This sure as hell felt like a victory to him. One dumped bitch, and one beaten asshole. Justice had never been sweeter. As he walked away, he heard the same officer ask Bobbi what happened, and he heard her sobbing reply.

  
The night ended in his and Pretty Boys arrest and a scheduled court date on charges of disturbing the peace, and assault, not to mention his blood alcohol level was pretty high. Then Tony was nice enough to bail him out of jail when he had used his phone call for Phil (“I can’t come in to work today. I got arrested.”) And what a phone call it had been.

  
Two nights later, he met up with his friends at a local bar. Steve, Tony, and Bruce went way back to High School. He sat nursing a beer at their table, telling them exactly what happened that night.

  
“So she was cheating on you for how long?” Bruce asked sympathetically.

  
Clint sighed and took a swig. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to know anymore.” Tony slapped him on the back.  
“You don’t need her, she was a bitch!” He slurred and leaned against Steve’s shoulder, whom, judging by the look of things, was about to add his two cents.

  
“I’m sorry Clint, it must have been awful. However, violence wasn't the answer. You could have confronted her about it another way.” The blonde suggested before taking a sip of his own beer.  
“I was drunk and angry, what else was I supposed to do? Think rationally? I messed up, but at least all I got was a fine to pay and a bachelor life.” He smirked.

  
Bruce hummed. “Maybe not for long.”

  
“Why’s that?” Barton asked curiously, turning to meet Bruce’s gaze.

  
“That red head from your department is here. She’s eyed you a few times.” The scientist pointed towards the bar at a beautiful lady with a glass of vodka and nearly blushed when their eyes met. Her’s were green.

  
“Who, Russian Romanoff? She’s smoking, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go into another relationship so soon.” Clint admitted looking downcast.

  
“Bobbi sure was ready.” Tony snickered, and in that moment Clint almost gave him a shiner, “but who said anything about relationships. Just go up to her and see what’s happenin’. See if it goes anywhere, bird boy.” Tony followed up, placing an arm around his friend’s shoulder. He looked to their groups reasonable voice; Steve.

  
“Tony’s right, no one said anything about long term. Just try and make friends.” Steve smiled encouragingly. Clint groaned.  
“Fine.” He mumbled before standing up and walking over to the bar. “Uh, hi. I’m Clint Barton; we work in the same department.” He tried, offering a hand to the beautiful Russian.

  
“I know who you are. Natasha Romanoff. Come to drink away your troubles, Barton?” She asked with a slight eyebrow quirk with a matching sarcastic smile.

  
“Clint is fine. Nah, I just came to hang out with some friends, if you’d like to join us.” He motioned to his table. She seemed to consider the offer a moment before ordering vodka. “Sure.” She smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to give feedback.


End file.
